


Passing of the Torch

by fragrantwoods



Category: Deadwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-27
Updated: 2011-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-20 19:11:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragrantwoods/pseuds/fragrantwoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>History documents that Seth Bullock barricaded himself in his office after Harry Manning was elected as Sheriff.  What would it have taken to get such a stubborn strong-willed individual to finally turn over his cherished badge, etc.?  Would devilish chicanery succeed where appeals to civic responsibility failed? There's the "right" way, and then there's the "Al" way...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passing of the Torch

**Passing of the Torch**

“I am too fuckin’ old for this shit!”

Al was already in a bad mood from having to leave the Gem. Having to walk over to the jail-slash-freight office just to talk to MISTER Bullock felt unnatural. The man really was insane.

“What the fuck are you doin’ outside, Utter?”

Charlie shuffled his feet, rubbed the back of his neck, started to tell Al all the details leading up to the present situation. Step by step by step.

“Jesus, Utter, get to the fuckin’ point before I freeze my balls off!”

Charlie collected himself, wrapping his arms around his chest in an attempt to stop shivering. _Didn’t like the cocksucker anyway._ Swearengen wasn’t going to dictate how he told his story. He was right about it being fuckin’ freezing, or close to it, though.

“Okay, Swearengen, I’ma try to bottom line it to you.”

Al’s eyes turned heavenward. _Don’t pull my blade, don’t pull my blade_ , he told himself. “Please.”

“He ain’t comin’ out.”

“Okay, that could use a fuckin' prelude. Just make it before Christmas.”

“Manning come over to talk to Bullock about a…smooth transfer, or some fuckin’ thing. Being as how he won the election and whatnot.”

“I remember. Especially the speeches.” He fluttered his left hand at Charlie.

“Uh, yeah…well…Bullock, he’d been drinkin’ more’n usual yesterday, not that he don’t have any right to, seeing as how…” he stopped as he saw Swearengen’s face darken. _Cocksucker ain’t the boss of me. But, on the other hand, I ain’t havin’ much luck my ownself._

“Hey Utter, you got that cocksucker outa his lair yet?” A rough voice called out, followed by an equally rough-looking Jane Cannery.

“I’m workin’ on it, Jane.”

“Oh. You gonna let the limey—“

“Come on, Jane, we don’t need to get in the middle of this. This is all “men” stuff.” Joanie stepped around a puddle to come up on the boardwalk and pull Jane away.

“Well then, what the fuck is Charlie fucking Utter doin’ in the midst of it?”

“Hush, Jane”. The two women stepped around the two men, Joanie keeping a firm grip on Jane’s sleeve.

“So, we got us a unfairly-fuckin’ elected new Sherriff, yes?”

Charlie puffed up at that. He offered a few editorials on rigged elections and the like before agreeing that this was, indeed, the case.

Al thought he could see his breath in the chill air. He tried to move things along.

“And Manning could use a couple things to help start out his term, like a badge, and an office, maybe access to a jail.”

“I have done been over this with that man since yesterday! He says Manning ain’t fit to be Sherriff and never wanted it noway, and he wasn’t gonna let a roily-stomached gas bag with a peculiar interest in fires wear his fuckin badge or set up in his office!” Charlie stamped his feet a few times to get the blood flowing again. “Last time he said that was right before he locked the fuckin’ door.”

Charlie had to sit down after that. God, he hated talking to people in general, and Al Swearengen in particular.

Al knew the answer already but had to ask. “And you don’t have a set of keys on you, Deputy, I take it since you’re out here freezing your balls off with me and not in there knockin’ him over the head with a shovel.”

Charlie didn’t dignify that with an answer.

Al could see Bullock pacing back and forth, muttering to himself, fingers squeezing the badge so hard he was surprised it hadn’t drawn blood. It was sad, for sure. Al felt a vague sense of horror himself at the thought of trying to communicate with Manning about anything important. Not as bad as when he gave the okay for Con Stapleton to be Sherriff (and what a cock-up that had been), but still…Manning was a pretty honest S.O.B. but he himself had turned a mite green at finding out he had been elected.

And Bullock had done a good job as Sherriff, for the most part. There was that time he beat the Mayor unmercifully, though, and the time he humiliated George Hearst with the ear-twisting thing…and the beating Al absorbed from him to get his attention…and lettin’ the Earp boy throw down that Pinkerton’s gun after he shot him…but all in all, he knew how to keep reasonable law and order among the ordinaries, didn’t ask for bribes, and refrained from askin’ stupid questions about fresh bloodstains.

That, plus havin’ some sense about how the world worked, was all Al would ask of a town sheriff. Even with Bullock’s little idiosyncrasies regardin’ his temper. But still…can’t fight progress. Or crooked elections.

Al gave up knocking on the glass and started yelling. He knew the maniac could hear him, even if he kept pacing and refused to look.

“You…cannot…keep…the…Sherriff’s badge! You…ain’t…the…fuckin’ Sherriff…no more! How…fuckin’…dimwitted…are….you, anyways?”

Stony glare was all the answer he got.

“Charlie, you stay right here, okay? I gotta go get somethin’.”

“Well, wait—what do I do if he leaves? Think I should stop him, or—“

“Trip him, do a dance, blow him, I don’t care. Just…stay put, hmm?”

A short, icy walk took him to Wu’s joint. A few “Swedgin fuckin’ needs this…and this…and this. Hang dai?” got him what he needed. A half a cup of funny-lookin’ green tea to warm up, and Al was back at the jail-slash-freight storefront.

Bullock looked suspiciously at Al sitting on the bench outside, scribbling away at a large sheet of paper with some charcoal, two smaller pieces of paper next to him.

He could see Charlie blanch and back away, shaking his head.

He looked past the two men and saw Johnny Burns and Dan Dority walking towards the jail. He didn’t see weapons, but that didn’t mean they weren’t armed.

Al stood up in front of the glass door, flanked by Johnny and Dan, Charlie looking on with worry.

“See this? This square with a little man in it, that’s you and the jail, right?”

Bullock could barely hear Al’s voice but could see the drawing, and nodded once, with a glare.

“Okay, see this? This is the school, see?” He drew a line with arrows at both ends between the squares. Added a figure with curly hair and skirt.

“And now, we have…” more scribbling”…the bank”. He drew a square, added a stick figure in a skirt next to a dollar sign. Another line with arrows.

The lines were almost exactly the same length. Bullock had stopped all pacing and was frowning at the paper.

“And here’s two notes, that Johnny and Dan will synchronize their walkin’ so that the notes get to the recipients at the same time. No favoritism here, pal.”

Al held the two notes up to the glass. They were identical.

 

 _“Please come to the jail at once, as Mr. Bullock has barricaded himself inside, refusing to let the new sheriff take office._

 _I fear a tragedy may befall him if he has to be removed by force. As I am aware of the tender feelings he has for you,_

 _and you for him,_   
_I pray that you can convince him to see reason._

 _Sincerely,_

 _  
Al Swearengen_

 

Bullock looked from the identical notes to Swearengen’s face and back again.

Al folded the notes. Using the charcoal, he wrote “Mrs. Alma Ellsworth” on the outside of one note, “Mrs. Martha Bullock” on the other.

Bullock stopped twitching and looked at Al with horrified wide eyes. When Al extended one note to Johnny and the other to Dan, he started talking through the glass. They could lip-read “cocksucker” but the glass was quite thick.

“Sorry, pal. Hearing ain’t so hot anymore.”

The notes hadn’t fully left his hands before they all heard the “snick” of a lock being pulled back.

 

“On the tit, Harry. Good job getting’ it shiny, now pin it on your tit. Here’s you your keys, and you need to start deputizin’ first thing in the morning.”

“Thanks, Al. I really appreciate you helping smooth things out. Bullock showed me around, acted half-way decent to me, said he’d help me with the outstanding warrants and such.”

“Yeah, Bullock is all right. He’ll help you get settled.”

“Uh, Al? Smells a little smoky in here. “

“Yeah…had to dispose of some old papers I didn’t need no more. Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna start no conflagration in here.”

Harry Manning turned at the door, shiny tin star on his chest. “Funny, you talk about Mr. Bullock like you’re a buddy of his, but then I heard him cussing you like a dog this morning. “

“Really? I can’t begin to imagine what would bring that on. We usually do quite well together.” He shrugged as he turned to his stove.

 _God, I can be such a bastard sometimes_ , he thought as he stirred paper in fire, _but the ability does come in handy._


End file.
